


The Devil Makes Three

by bakerstreetchick22



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Based On Buzzfeed Unsolved, Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural, Demonic Possession, Depression, Feels, Friends to Lovers, Horror, M/M, Murder Husbands, Mutual Pining, Pain, Pining, Protective Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara Loves Shane Madej, Serial Killers, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, Slow Burn, Smut, So many!, The Ghoul Boys (Buzzfeed Unsolved), They go through a lot, Thriller, Violence, and murder!, bodys!, demonic ryan, gay angst, manhunts, shyan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23694166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakerstreetchick22/pseuds/bakerstreetchick22
Summary: There is only so long you can play with fire before you get burned... Flirting with mortal evil, Shane and Ryan find themselves in a surreal hellscape of possession, lies, and dead bodies. Together, they must not only face their inner demons but also each other, as a tangled web of emotions and deceit bonds them together in ways they didn't think were possible.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 36
Kudos: 48





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> Hello All!
> 
> This is my first work in this fandom and my first attempt to write Horror with a hard R. I just really love the boys and want to write something pensive and dark and spooky for these trying times. 
> 
> Please! Reviews are really appreciated and I really value feedback on my works <3

Upon the swell of a green hill surrounded by lawns and overgrown grounds, deep in the heart of the West Virginia forest, laid the beautiful and abandoned building. Decked with steeples and halls, like a manor house from a novel it loomed against the cloudless and starry sky. The wind that blew down through the trees and up the center of the lawn, flowed through the gaping doorways and busted windows of the halls, making shuttery breath-like groans. Almost like the eyeshine of an animal, the moonlight reflected on what little glass remained on the face of the building. 

Ryan was quiet, as he looked at it from the opening in his tent. The Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum, it seemed, had bested them. Despite the life that seemed to teem within the vacant maze of rooms, they had walked it’s halls from sunset to three and they hadn’t found anything to speak of. Not a whisper. Not a groan. Not even a stray fucking speck of dust. Ryan could almost sense it taunting him, in the back of his mind, keeping him wide awake. 

Shane had gone to sleep- peacefully asleep- a long time ago and so had the rest of the crew. They had pitched camp on the main lawn, a decent ways away from the entrance to the Asylum. They had had plans to sleep in the building, but security prevented them. The building was too big to clear and, considering how creepy it was, it could very well have lunatics or lunatics unknown somewhere in it. 

Ryan fiddled with his personal go-pro. If it was too big to clear- then wasn’t it also too big to bust? What things had they missed? What rocks had gone unturned? He had filmed till his go-pro’s memory card had filled. He remembered the defeated moment when he heard it ding on his chest- knowing they hadn’t captured anything. He sighed in deep frustration, almost angry at himself for not finding anything.

Shane’s snores coming from behind him inside the tent were beckoning him to go back to bed- to forget it- move on- and be logical. Even asleep Shane had that air about him of serenity. He was so calm- so in control- so beautif- Ryan stopped his thoughts in their tracks, turning weak inside when he realized what he was thinking. He had been thinking like that a lot recently. His face drained of color when he remembered the countless times he had wondered... what it would be like to sleep just a little closer to him?

Even more frustrated, he pulled out his laptop and plugged in the card reader. Slipping the go-pro open, he flipped out the memory card and booted it up. Maybe there was something they missed in the background? Maybe he was a paranoid idiot? Either way, he was going to scour the footage, if only to keep himself from his own thoughts. Opening the tab on his computer he resigned himself to the hours of footage before him- but- to his surprise- the card wasn’t full. Of the full four and a half hours of footage that he had collected- there were only three and a half hours on the card. A full hour was missing. 

“Damn it-” He spat under his breath. “Dumb piece of junk.”

He hastily brushed through the footage trying to find where it cut out. After jumping around for several minutes he stalled, confused but also eerily unsettled. His eyes darted around as he combed through the footage again and- to his growing horror- it was the same result. The footage began and ended smoothly and there were no breaks anywhere in the continum- there was just an hour- a full fucking hour- that was just missing.

Trying to keep himself calm and his often even self-admittedly irrational thoughts at bay he double checked the time they entered into the building and the time they left- 7:30 pm to 3:30 am- total of eight hours. He remembered clearly starting his go-pro at 10:00 pm and having it beep shortly before they left at 3:30- meaning it was on and recording for the full time possible. Yet the full time wasn’t there. 

Almost instinctively he scrambled up to wake Shane, climbing over the tangle of adapters and cords. But before he did so he stopped and looked back up at the Asylum through the tent- almost like it had called his name- even though he had heard nothing. Suddenly breathless and with a panicky sweat forming on his brows and around his palms- he stared at it and it stared at him. Barely daring to exhale, he felt compelled to sink back down at the entrance to the tent. 

“...You’re watching me- I know you there…” He whispered- unaware that he had said anything till the words had already escaped his mouth.

He instantly reeled at the stupidity of what he was saying and thinking- but the doors of the building felt like they were sucking him back up- up the hill and into the halls once more. A deep paranoia settled into him, as a wordless conversation floated around him in the air. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. And as much as he wanted to wake Shane right then and there and have everything feel safe and better- something was urging him onwards- challenging him- taunting him. A boiling resolution rose in him. It was like something he had never quite felt before- a torrent. And he was struck with a bolt of clarity. At once he understood that if he was to stop now he would never be able to know the truth- never find the answers- and always be haunted by what the asylum could have shown him. 

Automatically, he went back to the footage. His fingers trembled as he hastily clicked away. He scanned it over and over again at high speed and could feel himself becoming desperate. Time was slipping away and if he didn’t find something quick it would be morning and he would have no reason for them to stay- other than a shaky hunch and sweat covered laptop. 

He nervously stared at his watch- 4:30 a.m. In a little more than an hour it would be daybreak. He gritted his teeth and started another round- but- before he even toggled the tracker it occurred to him. He had been wearing his watch the whole goddamn time. It was in all the footage. 

His gaze glued to the watch, he moved through the footage again- and his stomach dropped. There was the jump. Right as they had entered the children’s wing at 2:17 a.m. it skipped- uncanningly smoothly- to 3:05. Ryan and Shane were standing in almost the same position on the screen- but when closely examined- not only was Shane’s expression slightly different but the hallway was actually slightly different too. 

Then he was confronted with a question- Why? 

And, of course, though it shook him to the core, he knew why the footage was missing- because they had seen something that didn’t want to be seen. 

Without even thinking he started shoving all the gear he could find into his bag. If he had missed whatever it was before- he sure as hell wasn’t going to miss it again. He took his bible and his floodlight, and from the innermost pocket of his duffle bag he took his silver rosary and the bottle of holy water. Turning in haste to grab the notebook beside his sleeping bag he saw Shane- still fast asleep. In the panic he had completely forgotten not only the severity of what he was doing- but also who he was with…

As he looked down at Shane, the feelings were wild- strange. For so long Shane had been the one “protecting” him- being his rock- his voice of reason- but now when he knew- and he really knew- that something was out there he couldn’t bring himself to take Shane with him. 

Protective. Concerned. Afraid.

He knew that he couldn’t explain himself- and he damn well knew that his conclusions were crazy- no matter how true he knew them to be. Even if he agreed to come along, Shane wouldn’t believe anything until it was too late... The mere thought of that made Ryan feel like he couldn’t breathe. It would be his fault if he brought Shane along and something happened. Fuck- Shane didn’t even believe in God. What chance would he have against something like this- something most likely demonic. 

He glanced down at the time. If he didn’t go now, he would most likely never go at all. He gazed at Shane once more- and he felt himself thinking- what if it was for the last time? The twisting knot of emotions he had inside him could have choked him- but he forced himself to shove it down like he had done so many times before. At this point, he was better at suppressing it then showing it. And if he ever showed it? Well that was something he was most afraid of.

Determined, he flipped up the entrance to the tent and stepped outside. In just that one step he felt himself enter into a different world and respond to the unspoken challenge. The veil was thin. He took another step. And the veil became even thinner. From his back he felt the wind pushing him forwards onto the grass walkway. Clutching his rosary to his chest he ascended up the hill, his eyes never straying from the looming face of the asylum. He felt it speak to him- just like it had earlier that night- like a finger outstretched or a smile slightly crooked. On the sides of his ears he could sense whispers. They scratched at him like the rustle of dead leaves. 

Upon reaching the entrance to the foul place, he took the holy water and splashed it upon his chest and brow. He readied his rosary and flipped open his Bible and turned to the page in which Father Thomas had written notes in for handling demons. 

Do not speak to it  
Do not make deals with it  
Do not fall to it’s temptations 

Repeating these things in his mind he took his first steps forward into the building. The air smelled more fowl then before- and the sheer weight of the air made it feel like he was walking underwater. Turning on the floodlight he headed towards the children's wing. While unsure of what he would do when he got there he knew that he had to go. Quickly, he became enveloped in a bewitched or fugue-like state of fear and adrenaline. 

The walk to the wing was a silent one but it was the kind of silence that makes you anticipate with every moment the horror of the sounds to come. The floors puffed up agitated curls of dust as he walked. The rooms were open- waiting- watching. 

Finally, he came upon the sign: “Playroom”

From under his arm he took his small vintage film camera. It had occurred to him once or twice in his paranormal career- that spirits and other forces could tamper with electronic equipment- after all they certainly could affect light sources. He had the Salli House to thank for that specific revelation. After that incident he had begun to take film cameras with him on their trips. He had never used one till now- but by God he was grateful for it. 

Slowly entering the empty room, he could feel himself wind up- ready to attack or be attacked by whatever was lurking here. A couple moments passed- and then a couple minutes- and still the silence remained unbroken- as tight as a bowstring. 

He could feel every palpation of his blood and every creak of his body. The quiet began to press into him like a vice, slowly squeezing him out. His gaze- which had been focused- was becoming jumpy- flickering with the streams of dust. The rising and falling of his chest sharply quickened- and like an amber lost in a flame he suddenly felt consumed by the presence of utter madness. It was a fog. It was a heat. It froze him to where he stood. And then it poured into the room like a damp sickness. His left hand wringing his rosary and his right hand holding up the camera he backed himself around the room- seeing nothing but knowing it was there. 

Then on the back of his neck he felt the push and pull of another’s breath: 

“...You’re watching me....” 

He turned in terror towards the mocking voice- brandishing his rosary out in front of him. 

“...I know you there…”

In desperation, he pressed himself against the wall, but still he felt the breath glancing over him- moving around him like a spider. Frantically, he began mumbling off the beads and flipping through his notebook for things to do. Then as abruptly as the breath came- it left- leaving him in a sweaty pile on the floor. 

“You wanted answers didn’t you?”

“FUCK! GOD- FUCKIN-” He cried, trying to scramble away, but the voice pinned him directly in front of his face.

“You wanted to see a demon- in the real live flesh?”

He felt his insides liquefy. 

“....Knowledge is power…. Think of what questions I can answer….”

The strangely soothing tone innervated his mind like a drug. Shaking his head in protest, he pleaded with a half-twisted half-muted cry. The camera smashed to the ground- his hands forming a vice-like grip on the rosary.

“...You wanted this… You didn’t have to come up here… You didn’t resist me at all…” 

The searing realization came crashing down on him, shackling him in his own distress. The temptation of finally striking out on his own and proving everyone wrong suddenly became blindingly apparent. His frustrations and his weaknesses danced around in his head, making him clutch his head in dizziness. He needed to be validated. He needed to be respected. He needed to be loved. The bulb on his floodlight rattled and with ferocity it shattered on his thigh, sending shards of glass flying. The room was then plunged into darkness. 

“...it’s only natural… everyone wants attention- answers- satisfaction... ”

He pressed his eyes closed but he could still feel it flipping through the layers of his mind- running its mist in between his thoughts. He could see them too- the bits and pieces of all his dreams whirling around him in a hellish kaleidoscope.

“All those years of searching and you can’t even open your eyes?”

He winced at the contact of an almost featherlight touch on his face- the touch trailed down his eyelids to his cheeks eventually stopping right at his neck. 

The voice again began to breathe against his face steadily. He tried his best to hold his ground to not give in. He could sense the demon’s growing anger that he had not yet broken. For a moment he entertained the hope that he would get through this- that he’d just have to last until morning and then Shane would come and save him. 

However, as soon as these thoughts formed- the breath paused and then erupted in a twisted childlike glee:

“You are really nothing without him aren’t you?”

His thoughts stilled as he was struck- the comment whipping through his spirit- shredding him to the core. 

“Always waiting for him to save you….You can’t do anything on your own…” 

Tears began to wick out of his closed eyes.

“You know you’re helpless… and guess what- he knows it to… he knows it and he likes it that way...”

“You’re lying!” He snapped, “He would never think something like that!”

“How can you be so sure? Do you even know him… who he is…because I do.” 

“How would you know-” His tears mixed with his sweat- burning his eyes. “How would you know anything about him- he’s-”

“Heartless!” The voice hissed with delight .”Don’t you think someone as observant as him knows your little secret? You can barely stop your thoughts let alone your feelings. He knows and he doesn’t care at all. You’re nothing- and most of all- nothing to him.” 

The voice broke off and formed many illusions around him- most of them of Shane- rewinding all the moments that Ryan had tripped up- fucked up- or been downright apparent. 

He kept trying to repeat Father Thomas's instructions to himself- but the crushing weight of his turmoil was killing him. Splinters of repressed fears eviscerated him- and he faltered. A cascading chain of conclusions- suspicions- and anxiety left him to fall into the rubble of his shattering will. The bottled up hollow dread in his chest exploded. He felt a limpness in his body as the shadowy touch ran over him again. 

“See there…” The touch again stopped at his neck- but this time began to squeeze “You know it’s true…” 

The touch instantly was filled with a vice-like strength. In a last-ditch effort to escape with his life, he wrestled with it on the floor- clawing at the empty air- struggling towards the doorway. But it slammed him again and again against the dirty linoleum- crushing his throat and casting his rosary out of his hand. His last line of defense gone- his holy water all but sweated off- he knew that this was going to be the end- that he was going to die broken and alone in the darkness of the cold asylum. He really was a weak stupid fool. 

“Please-” He croaked- his eyes darkening with acceptance. “Just fucking do it- you fucking piece of shit- just get it over with!” 

”Don’t worry- ” The voice whispered, a fog filling Ryan’s eyes and mouth- burning his lungs and crawling around inside him like flies. “This isn’t the end.”


	2. Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are alright? Or so they seem!

“Wake-up you sleepyhead!” 

Ryan languidly swatted at Shane and rolled over in annoyance. The morning had come and gone. It was noon now and the crew was all but packed up. Ryan had been dead asleep for hours, collapsed half-hazardly on top of his sleeping bag. Shane had noticed that Ryan’s shoes were still on and that he was covered in dust and sweat. Mud was still damp on his shoes- and Ryan’s stuff was in a chaotic pile in the corner. It was obvious he had had a restless and anxiety-ridden night- most likely pacing back and forth outside of the tent to find some comfort.

Shane didn’t like seeing him like this. It troubled him that so often on these trips Ryan would end up this way- a disheveled mess. He laughed and joked around with him on camera and he did have to admit he did get a kick out of Ryan’s antics- provoking him- teasing him- and sometimes even downright scaring him for the fun of it. But sometimes- like right now- he did feel more than a pang of concern. Ryan was only human and that kind of shit takes a toll- even if Shane mainly started it. 

Perhaps the center of his worry really hinged on the fact that Ryan hadn’t woken him up. Ryan always woke him up when he was afraid...Thankfully they would be returning to LA today and they wouldn’t be heading to anywhere else for a while. 

The loud sounds of the tent next door being collapsed caused Ryan to jump awake and see Shane staring distantly down at him. The brief second in which they had locked eyes was enough to convey a painful amount of awkwardness and puzzlement. Shane instantly went back about his business. 

“Come on you dingus-” Shane scoffed, preoccupying himself with shoving equipment into a large duffle bag, “If you don’t hurry up we are going to leave you here all alone…. And the big bad ghosties are gonna getcha!” 

Blinking, his eyes burning from the sunlight streaming into the tent, Ryan silently tracked Shane as he moved around the tent. Ryan's thoughts were a jumbled mess- but he did get the distinct feeling that Shane was actually embarrassed- caught off guard- it was a strange sight. 

“What time is it?” He managed to ask.

“Late.” Shane responded- still apparently busy. 

Ryan nodded blankly before staggering upwards “God- I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

Shane glanced back at him through the tripod he was packing. “Yeah no shit- you look like it too- did you ever change after we got back?”

Ryan paused for a moment. “I guess not- I don’t really remember- I was sitting and going through some footage and I guess I just fell asleep.”

“That would be a first. Who would have thought that the big scary ‘trans-allegheny lunatic asylum’ would be the place you decided to nap on the job.” Shane chuckled, his long fingers forming mocking air quotes. 

“Yeah- Yeah- yuck it up big guy.” Ryan sighed, trying to straighten back his tangled mess of hair, “Just because we didn’t find anything doesn’t mean there wasn’t anything.” 

Shane's mouth formed a smartass grin, “Yes, I’m sure- haunted until proven busted- and all that baloney- catch-” Shane chucked a pack of deodorant wipes at Ryan’s head- “Pack your junk and wipe off- you smell like you rolled in rotten eggs- like some little fiend- a raccoon or something-”

“What’s wrong with raccoons?” Ryan cut, slowly feeling more himself.

“I don’t know- I don’t like their little human hands and little bandit masks- knocking stuff over-” Shane shook his hands- stopping himself mid ramble, “The point is I’m not sitting in the van with your stinky ass next to me for the next five hours.”

“You're lucky I can fit next to you Squatch.” Ryan snarked, opening the fresh smelling package and rubbing it carelessly all over. 

“Whatever man-” Shane smiled crookedly while taking his bags out of the tent and walking towards the van. 

Ryan blissfully watched him leave for a second- before shaking himself out of it and shifting his attention to packing up. He quickly peeled off his disgusting T-shirt and shoes and changed into clean ones- which were hard to find considering the total mess his bag was in. He hadn’t remembered tearing through it- but he must have. Shrugging- he threw all his stuff in and shoved it down till he could make the zipper close. 

He then turned to packing up his sleeping bag and taking down his electronics. On his knees, he rolled the sleeping bag almost all the way up when he noticed something shiny laying just next to where his head had been. Moving closer he saw that it was a pair of keys- women’s keys from the pink fuzzy rabbit's foot hanging from the loop. Puzzled, he picked it up and turned it in his hand. 

“Hey you about ready?” Shane announced, poking his head in. 

“Yeah-” Ryan distantly replied, “Did anyone lose their keys?” He said still rustling them around in his palm. 

“No? I don’t think so- why did you find some?” 

“Yeah-”

Shane stepped in- his brow furrowed in curiosity- and peered over Ryan's shoulder at the keys. “Strange-” He hummed “Someone must have lost them here- and we must have just pitched the tent right over it- weird.”

“Yeah weird,” Ryan, repeated. “I guess there isn’t anywhere around here for us to leave them-”

“Nah,” Shane said, already disinterested, “If anyone lost them here they have long since forgotten them.” 

“Yeah- I guess you’re right.” Ryan sighed- putting it out of his mind and absently throwing the keys into a side pocket of his bag and tying down his sleeping blanket. 

The rest of the packing was done relatively quickly- with the help of the crew- and they were off on the road again- headed for the airport.

\-------------------------------

The trip was boring as usual. There was always something anticlimactic about coming home from adventures- the adrenaline lowers back down to it’s usual levels- the foods and scents are familiar- and everything returns to normal no matter how crazy things have been. A full two months had passed since they returned. The episode on the asylum had been edited and scheduled for publication and by all accounts, everyone had moved on. Sometimes, after more memorable trips, the crew would continue to chit chat about it but no one really said anything- except that it unfortunately might be one of the weaker episodes of the series. 

This made Ryan all the more frustrated at his seeming inability to move on. At first, he thought his occasional daydreams about his experiences- or lack of experiences- were just an annoyance- an artifact of his inability to find any proof there- but slowly and surely things started to decay. His daydreams became more frequent and tinged with a bit of paranoia. Often at his desk he would just find himself just blankly sitting there, having forgotten what he was doing and having become completely sidetracked into meditating on the asylum.

He could see it crystal clear at times- the windows- the eves- the crooked shadows of the stairways. But then other times it was like he wasn’t even seeing anything at all. It was just a blur of memories and foggy sensations. He tried to talk about it once or twice, but nothing came of it. It was an itch that was lodged so deep under his skin that he couldn’t get at it or even tell where it really was. 

These little blips then morphed into minutes- and then the minutes into unidentified spans. He had driven home and didn’t realize where he was until he unlocked the door. He had eaten his whole dinner and then was startled to find that he had finished it. In the shower, he had gotten in on multiple occasions, only to blank out until suddenly the cold water roused him back into reality. 

All of this he could deal with. It was only a minor inconvenience, some leftover psychological baggage, but when his daydreams started pouring over into his sleep he slowly found himself beginning to struggle. His anxieties colored bizarre and disturbing nightmares. Sometimes he would be on the lawn of the asylum, looking up at it transfixed. Other times he was just alone. Those were the ones he dreaded. He could never place where he was or what he was doing there. He was just in a void or a fold in reality in which no sound or light entered. He would wake up and feel as though he hadn’t slept at all. His apartment was slowly becoming messier- he was slowly becoming messier. 

No one had seemingly noticed- or at least Ryan thought they hadn’t. But sometimes he would see Shane look at him out of the corner of his eye- like he didn’t want Ryan to know that he was looking. It wasn’t exactly a look of judgment but Ryan felt like Shane was slowly gathering an opinion. Every stained shirt sleeve or last minute bag of fast food was being quietly noted. Shane, interestingly though, didn’t seem to be deterred in any way from hanging out with him. If anything they were hanging out more- making coffee runs together or having board game nights together at Shane’s apartment. There was a small part of Ryan’s mind that was telling him that it was because Shane felt the same way… that there was an edge of hope… but as the days progressed he fell more and more prey to the darker sides of his mind. 

In the time since their return, Ryan had begun to compile more and more research concerning the horrific events that happened at their next travel destination- a by all accounts shitty a little town in the dusty backwaters of Oklahoma. He had already read a decent amount about it around six months ago when they were planning the new season, but he wanted to be thorough and exhaust every forum theory and every account he could find in order to build a compelling case for the paranormal activity there. This was nothing strange- but- it made him feel strange.

He remembered that when he was reading about it before that he had to take breaks every so often to clear his mind from the amount of horrific garbage he was subjecting it to. But now- now he felt altogether different about it. He could flip through the ghastly crime scene photos and pour over the grizzly accounts for hours. When he wasn’t nodding off or spacing out or directly engaged in some issue- he was reading almost nonstop. Instead of shuddering with disgust he felt- to his great disturbance- nearly nothing other than a keen and practically hungry interest. This interest quickly festered into twisted excitement. 

Excitement… He couldn’t bear to acknowledge it no matter how much he knew it was there. Even the fringes of it made him double over in guilt and grief. He had always made a note of trying to be respectful of the victims and the horror surrounding the events they covered- and he knew that sometimes they were guilty of making light of situations- but that wasn’t a crime- it was just coping- it was just entertainment- but this was entertaining. 

Questions also filled his mind. Usually, he had assumed that these people- these murderers were monsters but now he became preoccupied with why…. the motive... and then even the feeling of it. Sometimes as if he was eclipsed by rage- he could almost feel it shaking him- the desire for more.

These thoughts paired with the exhaustion and the nightmares and the intrusive daydreams were forming into a noxious cocktail of mental instability. He knew it- and he resented how he could not seem to control it.

Tonight, he could already sense the beginnings of another terrible evening. Pouring himself a drink of whatever alcohol he had left in the cabinet, he slumped down on the couch and lit up a musty blunt. It tasted like dirt- but it was something. His weary eyes glassily gazed into the air- and the sad madness began to creep over him. 

Just as he felt himself slipping off into another daydream- the doorbell rang- making him jump out of his skin in surprise- alert breath filling him again. Half-crawling half-tripping over the mess in his apartment he staggered towards the door and peered through the peephole.

It was Shane. 

A sharp bite of panic shot through him- and he could feel his face flush red. Shane hadn’t seen his apartment in weeks. Ryan made sure of that- always suggesting that they go out- or to Shane’s place- or what have you. He glanced back down the hall at the kitchen and saw that it was filled with dirty dishes and crunched cans of beer- the mess spilling over the eat-in bar to the equally messy living room. Shane knew he was at home. His car was out front. There was no way he couldn’t let him in without making it even more awkward. Thinking fast he shoved the trash into the bin and closed the door to the kitchen and tried his best to sweep anything in the living room into his bedroom. 

Shane rang the doorbell again. 

Ryan sprang back up to the door- briefly smoothed himself down- trying to look as natural as possible- and opened it with a deep breath. 

“Heya Big Guy!” He greeted, with a little too much zeal. 

Shane blinked, “Heya- Yeah- uh sorry for just dropping in on you like this.”

“Are you crazy just come on in- it’s no problem.” Ryan put his arm on Shane’s shoulder and led him into the house- carefully steering him past the kitchen and into the still cluttered living room. Shane’s eyes were casually roving around in a nonchalant but observant manner- regarding the state of the apartment with a seeming neutrality. 

Ryan sat down on the couch, trying to act casual and normal. He expected Shane to sit down as well- but he didn’t. Shane continued to stand- his hand on his mouth in thought- his tall presence filling the room with a strange energy. 

“What did you swing by for?” Ryan pressed onwards, with a chuckle. “Did you wanna play some Call of Duty- or some Backgammon- or something?” 

Shane stood still for another beat- before realizing himself- and finally folding himself down into the chair. 

“Ye- yeah well we could do that-” He began, “That is if that is what you wanna do- I mean- I’m all for it- if that’s what you wanna do?” As he spoke, a flat and meek smile formed on his face that- frankly- was painfully unconvincing as hell. 

Ryan rubbed his hands together and adjusted in his seat. The two then stared at each other, aware of each other's fronts, and suspicious of the other’s intentions. Shane eventually was the first to break- his expression shifting from it’s two-dimensional friendliness to a deep seriousness- a seriousness that scared the hell out of Ryan. 

He laughed apprehensively- his voice cracking, “What is this- some kind of intervention?” 

“Why do you think I’m here to intervene?” Shane’s voice was deadpan but concerned. 

“I don’t know-” Ryan fumbled with his hands- gesturing over at Shane, “It’s just you’re- you’re just sitting over there looking like a fucking NARC.” He laughed again- sounding even worse, “Why do you think I’m here to intervene?” He repeated, in his Shane voice. “Come on man you know that sounds like some corny shit they’d say on Law and Order- you can’t be serious.” 

Ryan’s attempts to lighten the mood fell flat on Shane’s unbreaking gaze

“Are you sure that this is what you want to do?” He said, 

“What?” Ryan exclaimed, his characteristic wheeze turning into a more of a choking sound. “What do you mean- what I am doing?” 

Shane’s mouth bore the signs of disappointment- his eyes sadness. Ryan could sense that Shane felt like he was betraying him- but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from twisting the knife even farther. 

“Why are you here?” Ryan said at once- not meaning to sound threatening- but definitely doing so.

“What do you mean-” Shane burst, his calm intercessory manner cracking. “I’m your friend Ryan- aren’t I?” He leaned forward, his hands coming within touching distance of Ryan, but pausing before actually doing so- curling with remorse, “....you are obviously going through something...” Shane whispered.

Ryan gritted his teeth, “I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” 

That was enough. Ryan jumped up off that couch- causing Shane to retract back into his chair. Ryan paced back and forth as he felt a fit of sizzling anger rising up inside of him. It a was blind and stifling rage that he could not understand. 

“You don’t have to mind me all the time.” He spat, “You realize how fucking annoying it gets sometimes being with you- around you?” 

Shane looked up at him motionless. 

“You’re always so calm- so thoughtful- so- I don’t even fucking know- aloof- aloof- is that the word?” Ryan ran his hands through his hair in exasperation, before looking back at Shane. “What did you think you were going to do- come over here with your pseudo-intellectual advice and just fix everything?” 

“So…” Shane spoke up, “You admit- something needs fixing…” 

“What the fuck do I know?” Ryan sighed, “I can’t sleep. I can’t think. I feel like a walking pile of shit- and I’m obviously in need of pity otherwise you wouldn’t be darkening my DMs every other night asking me to chill.” 

“That wasn’t pity- that was-”

“What?” Ryan’s gaze burned down at him. 

“I- I- just wanted to keep an eye on you-”

“Why would you want to do that?” 

“You just seem different is all...” Shane’s voice grew soft, “I thought you seemed different and like maybe you might need someone…” 

Ryan’s firey words caught in his throat- if only Shane knew how much he did need him- need him the all fucking time. He could feel all the things that he had never had the guts to say pulsing through his blood. He bit his lip bitterly. 

“I just need rest.” He murmured. 

Shane nodded. “If you want- I can cover for you tomorrow at work?” 

“Sure,” Ryan replied, meaning it to sound thankful, but in truth sounding grim instead. “Maybe if I just step away for a day I will feel better.” 

The air settled into a post-cataclysmic silence. They had never fought like this before- and it was obvious that whatever had come out was just the edges of the bigger issue. Ryan hadn’t gotten heated enough to say anything real- anything about the fantasies- the pressure- the rage… He had been living like for so long now that he had almost forgotten how disturbing his thoughts really were- until he was threatened with the idea that they would pour out of him like puss from an infected wound. Feeling like a cornered animal- about to be put down- he clenched his jaw and remained fiercely silent. This wasn’t something for Shane’s ears. He could handle it. He could best it on his own.

Shane- with an uncharacteristically desperate look- as if too he perhaps was in danger of saying something too much- looked on at him knowing it was no use. 

“I’ll let myself out,” Shane said like an apology, as he rose from the chair. Ryan’s eyes- skittish and dark- tracked him as he wandered past the couch towards the door. 

“I know-” Shane paused in the hall, “-that there is probably more to this- and I just want you to know that if you ever feel like- like- like I don’t know- like you’re going to do something stupid-” Shane’s voice wavered with subtext, “-that I’m here and I’ll hear you out and you know it’s okay to have off days- off weeks- even hell off seasons.” 

Ryan accepted his words with a note of resentment- nodding and refusing to meet his gaze. 

Shane looked down at the floor, obviously reluctant to leave, but feeling as though he had no other choice but to do so. Without any ceremony or any further words Shane left. He would have usually hugged Ryan but he had already intruded on a more volatile situation than he had bargained for and to do so would be asking for trouble. 

Feeling defeated, Shane lingered at the doorway for a spell, taking deep breaths. It hadn’t needed to erupt into that. He knew it was partially his fault for just dropping in out of the blue- but he had known that if he’d announced he was coming he wouldn’t have actually seen how Ryan was really doing. It was a gamble of sorts, but he had hoped… 

Grimacing, scolding himself for his optimism- he wearily started back to his car that was parked right behind Ryan’s. In coming upon it, he noticed something that he hadn’t seen before. When he had arrived, he had exited his car on the street side and had walked around Ryan’s car accordingly. But now- in coming back from the apartment- he found himself on the opposite side of the cars- and on the bottom of Ryan’s car there was a two foot long gash running along the back wheel rim to the back bumper. It appeared like the car had run over something akin to a ditch. 

He stared at it for a while. LA did have a lot of hills. But it didn’t sit well with him that Ryan had neither told him of the accident nor had it fixed. The first traces of rust were forming around the gash- indicating that it had been there for at least a month. Ryan, as he knew him, would have jumped at the chance to be the center of attention and relay to anyone that would listen about his frightening ordeal with his car- eagerly laying on embellished details. But clearly… he had not done so. 

Not wanting to be anymore inflammatory then he had been already- he decided to just go to his car, leave, and forget about it. As he was pulling out, however, he could already feel himself formulating reasons for how and why and frankly- none of them were good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two months later- and Ryan is beginning to pull apart at the seams- I wonder what he is going to next? I wonder what he has done already? 
> 
> :)


	3. The Beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Thank-you for all your wonderful support!! I hope you like this chapter- we are starting to descend into the madness that is to come <3 
> 
> Enjoy!

It had been several hours since Shane had left the apartment. The dead of night had come and the sun had slowly sunk behind the horizon line. Dark, and without any noise, the apartment had laid still- as he had not moved from the living room- lingering in it as he could not seem to do anything else. He sat upon the couch detached and burning from within. It was like he was sitting inside his mind- trapped- while every muscle of his body tore against itself. Reality sat above him, behind an unreachable barrier, seeming to mock his inability to reach it. But the longer he laid there, clinging to his insides, the more the horrid realization dawned on him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t reach reality. This was reality. He was wriggling and struggling against it, but he knew with a lucid apprehension that Shane was absolutely right- that he was not himself- that he was different…

He knew it should have occurred to him in such terms before, but he had not wanted to consider any of these changes to be definite- to be real. How could he face himself if they were? Good people sometimes think bad things… do bad things… but surely he was still himself. He was still Ryan. He was just sleep deprived and maybe depressed and maybe- well maybe troubled. But he was the same person wasn’t he. If he wasn’t himself then who was he? He knew that Shane was most definitely speaking in the figurative- but inside himself, he could feel an uneasiness- and for some time he stared at his hands- almost unsure if they were his. Pulling them out in front of his face, he gazed deeply at the subtle shadows that marked the tendons and bones of his hand. Then his eyes wandered past his hands and towards the coffee table. 

Upon the coffee table laid an indifferent collection of junk- lighters- books- discarded papers- however he focused past all that and upon an empty beer bottle on the far side. His mind whirred and suddenly he was stirred to movement. He seized the bottle and with a single mindedness stalked towards his bathroom and blew open the door. Smashing the bottle upon the side of the sink, he took the broken edge of glass to his palm. With almost no consideration or acknowledgment of pain he cut- drawing the shard downwards in a jagged line. To his relief, the red stream flowed- dripping down into the basin. 

As he watched the steady heavy drops fall, a sense of bizarre satisfaction that he had proved something filled him. But, as he held his palm upwards, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and the sudden insanity of his actions became clear. Red coloring his forearm- a vacantness about his eyes- he knew he was riding the razor’s edge. And without any hesitation at all, he thought of the pictures from Oklahoma and the blood that colored them. Like a match falling into a pool of oil he instantly lit up with an elation that choked him. Laughter spewed out of him in a painful- halting- heave. Grasping at his throat, now devoid oxygen he fell over against the wall, the force knocking the suffocating delight out of him- his sense returning to him. 

Revolted with himself- he staggered up and threw the bottle in the trash. His hand pouring all over himself, he began searching through his cabinets for a bandage. In the end, after leaving a spotty trail around the apartment, he ended up wrapping his hand with a makeshift binding of gauze and sports tape. As he wound the final layer of tape around, he knew that this had to be the end of it. He could no longer afford to entertain those memories- those visions of that place. He needed to move on- and move on now. Enough was enough. 

Unsure of where precisely he was going, he hastily gathered up his things and started out the door. He couldn’t stand to be in that place any longer- it was more silence then he could bear. Upon reaching his car, he swung in and turned the radio on loud and just began driving. 

The rolling hills, and the snaking roadways that dissected them, unfolded before him as he restlessly moved forward. A pensive tick in his mind told him that he needed to go- so he hit the highway and began to speed. He told himself he was looking for something- that he was going to find that something- and that he was gonna take it and never let go. Borderline manic- he hit up anywhere that caught his eye- not caring about how much it cost or of its after effects. 

And this was how he continued for nearly two weeks. Vacation time was called in- Food was consumed- Liquor was acquired- And life was lived in a blur of clubs and neon- flooding his mind with all of the things it could have possibly wanted. And yet, in doing this, he found himself desolate. 

Staggering out of the third unidentified and loud establishment of the night, he wandered back to his car in a groggy haze- as was his custom- and he found that his skin wore against him like sandpaper. What was he even doing- he wondered. What even was this life? His hand had healed several days ago but he still felt this ache. His head throbbed- His brow sweated- and the void inside him grew bigger as he realized that he could not fill it. The visions hadn’t stopped- the only difference was now his more wakeful life was a blur too. Everything had become a hazy flash of strange faces and stranger places. 

Carelessly, he slumped up against the front of his car and rested against the pavement. His head propped up against the bumper he looked up at the sky that was cloudless and black. Featureless, it hung over him, giving him nothing but a sort of unyielding indifference that made him imagine death. It was then that he realized he was crying. This “moving on”- this “living” that he had been doing was merely another form of getting numb. It was running. And he could not run. Whatever was inside of him could not be dodged or abated even by his best intended will.

At this moment his phone buzzed. Pulling it out- his mood sank even more. It was Shane. 

“Just wondering how you’re doing bud- miss you here at the office- just hope you’re doing well… take care” 

Ryan scrolled up on the conversation. That had been the sixth message he had received from Shane since he had gone on this “leave of absence” and he hadn’t responded to any of them. The bright whitish blue light of the screen burned into his eyes, almost mocking him with the fact that he could not bring himself to face Shane since that afternoon he had come over to his apartment. Any sane man would have just said hi- would have just talked about it- but frankly he did not think Shane was equipped for the things he was thinking. Ryan had made a promise to himself that he was going to fix this… and yet he hadn’t… and what worse he was beginning to think that he couldn’t.

His phone buzzed again: “Can I see you tomorrow?”

For a while he let his fingers ghost over the keyboard- uncertain. But then- with the same wild impulse with which he had cut his hand- he rose up and throttled his phone at the pavement. The sound caused several equally tipsy people in the parking lot to look over- startled. Hating the questioning glances, he got in his car and slammed the door. Starting his engine, he whipped out of the parking lot with a renewed anger. 

Why? He choked on his thoughts. Why could he not seem to stop himself from doing what he was doing? Why was this happening? Why could he not piece it together? What was it that he could not bring himself to understand? 

Stopping at a red light- his heart racing- his breath rapid- the asylum bubbled up in him again. This time, however, he did not resist the visions nor run from them, instead he just sat there and absorbed them- taking up blackness like a funnel. The feeling inside him was ten times heavier than before and it came upon him like a rushing rapid of chills. It swam around his head and pushed him down- down- down- until his head fell forward against the steering wheel and his vision turned black. 

\----------

A phantom touch upon his face awoke him. Jittery, he shook awake to a disorienting existence. He was lying on a beach- a beach that he did not know- some ways between the cliffs and the water. He had been laid flat on his back as if he had been struck down and was allowed to awkwardly collapse to the ground. Still the dead of night, he could not clearly see the pier or any buildings about. It was just a vast expanse of moonlet dunes and sandbars. He was alone it seemed or- well he was alone until he spotted it- sticking up limply from the sand of the beach. 

An arm- crookedly flung- pointing upwards to the sky laid in front of him. It was a pale, white thing, so sad looking, so frail. Transfixed, he sat there staring at it, watching as the ebbing waves lapped around it, bathing it with the sea. The push and pull of the water threatened with each wash to reveal the shallowness of the grave and the utter casualness with which it had been abandoned. He knew for sure that the body lay only a few inches under and that, of course, was because he had been the one to put it there. 

The wind danced along the bluffs pushing his hair down over his face, as he did not move, did not breathe, did not do anything. He knew almost nothing about the woman, but he knew that she was not his first. In fact, he did not even think that she was his second or even his third. The sky covered the horizon with its inky black chill and the beach laid quiet with its gentle sounds and smells- as he looked at the woman- looked and knew... that he did not have a number for her.

With a distorted and desperate alarm he crawled over to her, and reached out as if to pull her back from under the sand and into the land of the living. But as he came to touch her hand and bring it into his own- the ultimate horror coursed through him as he saw the nail polish- neatly applied and unchipped on her fingernails. Like so many blue pearls set in ivory, they shone back at him as a testament to the now dead life that had once been cherished. He gagged, heaving over himself and reeling away from it as if it had bit him. 

There was no saving her. There was no going back. The deed had been done- and what was worse- the deed had been enjoyable- this he knew despite his best efforts to deny it. The only thing that was left for him to do was to leave the beach and to do it quickly. Deadened with the sudden knowledge of his nature, he stood up, shook the sand from himself, and began to pull one of the large cliff boulders down a bit farther towards the sea. In a moment of silent metamorphosis, he then edged the rock over the arm- covering both it and the body below- and left the beach. 

He then drove some hours past dawn- down the 101 back to LA. from Concepcion- that was where he had been- a lonely reserve with nothing but a dirt road and a mission. He had weeks, maybe even months, before anyone found it. 

“It…” He said to himself emotionless- a surreal blankness filling his body as he cruised down the coast. He thought of everything and felt nothing, and upon returning back to his apartment he fell into a deep dreamless sleep.


	4. Catastrophe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks to all you lovelies for reading <3
> 
> This chapter contains a pretty large flashback covering what Shane has been doing for the two weeks that Ryan has been running around- So this is all from Shane's world view and will bring us up to speed on what our fav noodle man has been feeling!
> 
> <3 best

The alarm went off loudly in the quiet room. Unmoving and awake, Shane stared at it as it rang. He had not slept- he had just laid for hours unmoving on the bed. Stiffly, and without any change in his expression, he gradually summoned the will to move. And by the time he had fully done so, a half hour had passed, and the alarm laid silent- flashing its lights soundlessly into his unreceptive eyes.

Dressed in something, he left directly for work, as he did not have the appetite for breakfast. For mornings in general, he had no true complaints. The weather was clear. The traffic wasn’t the shit show it usually was. And even the office seemed peaceful, with nothing but the tapping of keys and the sound of far off conversations floating by him. And yet, as he sat at his desk and stared at the black coffee that some intern had handed him, he felt as though he could scream.

Shane had always told people that he was not an investigator and that he had had no training. In truth, he knew that he was just a show host for a show that hell- he didn’t even really research. Ryan did all the research. Ryan enjoyed that- laying out all his stuff- defending his funny little theories… Shane took a sip of his coffee. Life- he had always suspected was uncaring- but now he suspected worse. It was cruel.

That night when he had left Ryan’s apartment a little over two weeks ago he had found himself conflicted- troubled- by not only the fight- but by something else that he could not discern or parse out- something entirely unseen. He thought of how it felt to be in the room with Ryan. It was different- that was the only word he could use to describe it.

His thoughts he found were leading him to loiter around that night two weeks ago. He had come up with several errands to do in the area, and had done them. He had eaten out a few blocks away. He had wandered around shopping. He had pulled into a cafe and had worked on some emails. He had done everything there was to do but just fucking leave and go home. He found himself hovering around as if his proximity would somehow prevent some catastrophe.

Catastrophe.

He didn’t like thinking that way, but he could not stop himself. He thought about the gash in the car- the trash in the apartment- the lies that he knew that Ryan was feeding him. Ryan wasn’t okay- wasn’t going to be okay- unless something changed. And the only “change” that seemed to be happening was that Ryan was getting worse and worse. From lively to languid- to what next- dead? What stung him the worst was the hiding. It scared him and made his mind drift to black things. In the background, his brain was buzzing.

Without even processing the decision- just following his flow of consciousness- he had found himself parked outside of Ryan’s apartment once more- like a criminal impulsively returning to the crime. He really didn’t know why he was there, but he knew that he intended to stay.

“You’re really some type of creep to be doing this you know,” He whispered as his eyes combed the building, “A real grade-A loon… He doesn’t even want you to be here.” The conviction of his words fell flat and bitter on his tongue.

He checked his phone- it was a little past ten- Shane wondered what had happened in the fours hour since he had left him- alone- in the apartment. From Shane’s spot, half way down the street he could see that Ryan’s car was still there and that the lights were off upstairs.

“Hopefully someone is getting some sleep…” He mumbled, leaned back in his seat, feeling faintly like a suspicious idiot.

And from the hours of 10 to 2 he stewed on that idiocy and their conversation. Time ticked slower and slower- and he began to doubt himself- doubt why he was really here. Shades of guilt moved across his face like shadows.

“Aloof.”

It hurt. He hurt. Ryan had meant it- and Shane began to feel it sticking- as he sat in the car watching Ryan’s place like some sort of stalker with a God complex. What could he do? Like he could fix anything? What kind of-

The door to the apartment opened with a loud swing.

His focus snapped back instantly to see Ryan staggering out of his apartment. Ryan’s face was wired- bewildered- and his gate was a poorly suppressed run. Shane’s gaze trained onto something white wrapped around Ryan’s hand. It was bandaged- freshly but awkwardly bound. Even from a distance he could see the dark shadow of blood under the gauze. It looked raw- deep. Shane clenched the steering wheel.

Pounding down the steps and jumping into his car- like he had somewhere pressing to be at 2 am- Ryan was off and down the street in a flash.

Shane immediately followed suit.

His mind clear, Shane matched Ryan turn for turn, despite him driving like a madman down the 405. 80- 85- easily in the packed traffic of downtown wasn’t easy to keep up with, but he did it. The feeling of the wheels under him gripping the pavement was steady and blistering. His head filled with adrenaline, as the surrealness of it all was setting in.

What in fuck sake was Ryan doing- better yet what was he doing? Did he want to die?

Shane had seriously considered that Ryan was suicidal- but he hadn’t considered that he was insane too.

“Need rest my ass.” He scoffed, pivoting the car into another hairpin turn, desperately trying to keep up with him.

Ryan, thankfully, after a couple of more last minute exits, finally decided to cool down somewhere in a seedy area of town. Pulling up on some club lined street, Ryan ditched his car at the corner valet and made a beeline for some neon eyesore called Pyramid Heights.

Bleeding? Yelling? Speeding? And now this God forsaken this place? What else was he doing? How long had he been doing it?

Fully invested, Shane decided to pursue him into the club. After going round the block once more, to make sure Ryan didn’t see him, he opened his car door and chucked his keys at the valet. As soon as he feet hit the pavement, his nose was accosted with the smells of the drinking and the drunk. Tall, gangly, and dressed like someone who had no business being there he stalked into the club. He had already spent most of the night tumbling through this fucking fever dream- what was another few hours.

The club was impossibly dark, loud, and smelly. There were people on tables- people on stage- people in contraptions hanging from the ceiling- and all of them drunk as hell. The hypnotic lights flashing in his eyes and the music beating down on him, he sunk around the sides of the club. His eyes peeled, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible, he settled into a darkened corner half-way behind a glass wall and the scaffolding of the strobe lights. The heat from the dance floor and lights poured down on him- and quietly he could feel himself begin to darken with a gloomy focus- his posture tightened and the intensity of his concerns began to spill out of him.

He knew he needed to cool down. Where was this even coming from?

This wasn’t like him. What did he care if Ryan wanted to go out and have a good time? It wasn’t a crime. If anything he was the one who was messed up- following him out here like a psychopath and jumping to outlandish conclusions. But as he sat in the darkened corner, the atmosphere soaking into him, he found that the roots of his emotions ran deep beneath the surface. They twisted around his spine and crowded his chest. He ordered a drink, and began sipping.

And someway half through his piss flavored beverage- he saw him- over the rim of his glass. He was in the loft- above the opposite floor of the club- dancing with some tall fit looking guy with a tan and a wide smile. Shane’s ears turned red, as Ryan proceeded to drape himself over the man with open lustfulness. A physical sensation akin to a sudden ear-piercing screech shot through him, and he decided that he had seen enough.

Feeling as though he was on fire from head to toe, Shane left the club shaken. With whatever an ashen existence he had left- he went up the valet and barely mumbled something about the car. The car was found and he collapsed into it. Ugly- nasty emotions all about, he drove. With each minute that passed, he became more arrested by something terrifyingly close to spite.

Obviously, Ryan was fine. He thought, now grimly disappointed. A tinge of that special kind of depression that only gathers in the dead zones of parties ate him up. He had had no business in following Ryan. He had gotten what he deserved- but what even was that? A mouthful of soot- a headache- a ringing in his ears- he could feel himself sweat...

Fumbling into his apartment, he went to bed with a crushed and confused tiredness. The next day he awoke- the night before feeling like a bad and lucid trip. A resentment inside himself for ever letting himself do something that stupid- he decided to forget it as quickly as possible.

Despite this resolution, he had still lived a rumpled- disturbed- and confusing life in the two weeks that had elapsed between then and now. On multiple occasions, he, in moments of weakness and drunkenness, had even texted Ryan trying to amend whatever had been broken. He knew that Ryan had read them- he had gotten the damned receipts- but he hadn’t received a single response back…

But this was not the source for his current and much more nauseous mood. Last night, on the evening news he saw the report of a body being found in a dumpster downtown. This was no shock. It was LA after all- and there was nothing that LA and California, in general, liked more than killing people. But this body- he knew without question- was the man that Ryan had been dancing with that night.

Same broad smile- Same beachy tan- Dead for two weeks the report had said. Chucked without regard behind a restaurant, it had begun to smell in the heat. They were asking for info on him.

Shock couldn’t encapsulate the feelings that he had as he sat riveted there on his couch watching the broadcast. The same screeching sensation ran through him again with white-hot heat. His fingers shaking- he fumbled with his phone’s keypad- his eyes flicking up at the numbers on the screen.

“1-7-3-2-”

He could feel himself melting.

“9-2-0”

A silent scream inside him pressed him both to stop and go onwards.

“3-0......”

His hands freezing up- rigid over the last digit. What if- he thought- what if…

The piles of joking conversations that they had about bodies and murders and the moral responsibility of people reverberated in his mind. Would you call in a body? Would you leave it? How would you handle being a suspect because of it? The LAPD were fucks- he knew that- and he hadn’t exactly hidden his opinion. And for that matter neither had Ryan.

Ryan.

How rich would it be- a paranormal and true crime investigator who self admittedly studies violent crimes being brought in for questioning regarding a murder? Ryan was a nervous and stressed guy on the regular- not alone now- even if he hadn’t done anything.

And he hadn’t done anything right? Ryan- sure- was definitely acting like he could be a danger to himself- but a danger to other people- that didn’t seem possible. And it didn’t seem possible because it just wasn’t- it couldn’t be.

Surely there were other people at the nightclub that night that could call in and have something other to say than: “Yeah, I was stalking my mentally unstable friend that night and saw him dancing romantically with the victim on the night he died. Oh and yes me and my friend think the police are shit and we love reading about murdering folks for fun!”

It was out of the question.

Clearing out the number from his phone- he instead pulled up Ryan’s number.

“Just wondering how you’re doing bud- miss you here at the office- just hope you’re doing well… take care” He texted, skirting his true motives.

The little checkmark popped up underneath the text, and he knew that Ryan was going to ignore him, as he had for the last two weeks.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” He texted again. There was no response. It was clear Ryan wanted nothing to do with him. A part of him wondered if Ryan had somehow seen him at the club- somehow knew that Shane had followed him. He had the inclination to go right back to Ryan’s place- right that very instant- but a dark hollow feeling slowly dissolved him and his resolve.

That hollowness had lingered with him the whole sleepless night. And even now- as he sat in the office- he could feel it eating him. A cavern of guilt splitting through him, he refreshed the news pages compulsively, almost afraid he would see something that he didn't want to see. Slowly, the day took it’s time folding. Shane drifted through the day until it was eventually time to go home. When he eventually reached the stoop of his apartment, he became aware of the pressure that he had been under, and with a heaviness, he went to the door.

“Heya!”

“SHIT-” Shane’s heart jumped out of his chest- as he sprang back in surprise. Ryan, with a smile, had materialized from seemingly nowhere.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” Shane cried, trying to straighten himself out.

“Well, you said that you wanted to see me tomorrow-” Ryan replied, putting his hand on Shane’s shoulder, “So.... here I am Big Guy!”

Dazed, Shane let the door to the apartment open and the two walked in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yipe- things are getting sticky!


	5. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) thank-you for reading all you lovelies and be just being generally great. this is my first work in the fandom- so I'm still getting used to writing their characters (lol that why this update took so long) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy what the bois get up to <3

Shane let Ryan go ahead of him down the hall. Hesitantly, Shane watched him as he walked into the living room, unsure of the reality of what he was seeing. Ryan was… normal? In the many years he had known Ryan, he had always known him to be a fighter, but there was something uncanny about it- unbelievable. It was if nothing had ever happened- like real life had just been on pause until now. Like nothing had been real. It had been all a bad dream.

Ryan sighed, tossing himself on to the couch. “So-” He smiled, “How have things been and stuff- you know- without me?”

There was an underlying tenderness in his tone- a pleading- that caught Shane’s ears.

“It was- good?” Shane rubbed his hand against his mouth- almost unsure about what to say, “I mean- well- you know- it was about as good as it could have been without you at the wheel of production and all that.” He stalled, all the worries and the things that he had done and thought between that night and the present ganging up on him. He could feel himself fraying.

Ryan looked up at him- his dark eyes becoming vulnerable. “I’m glad- I was just- I guess worried that I was making a mess for you. I’m not totally blind- I know I can be self-centered sometimes- and I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t care… you know cause I do care.” 

The tangible walls that were up around them started to crumble, as Ryan’s gaze never strayed. The blood rushed to Shane’s face. He was sure that Ryan and him had looked at each other like this many times before- but it was different this time- there was a pull in his chest and he could not look away. Ryan was not the same. This wasn’t the same. Shane sank down into a chair- the mood becoming too heavy to stand in- and there was a tentative exchange of expressions.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.” Ryan murmured. “I know I scared myself.”

“Ry…” Shane’s voice trailed off.

“It wasn’t right of me to shut you out like that,” Ryan continued, “I- I hadn’t known how much I had needed a break- how much I- ah,” He adjusted forward in his seat, “How much I needed you.”

Shaky, Shane smoothed his hands over his face, “Ah geez-” The silent stress that he had been living under cracked- his eyes welling. “I honestly… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you missed me,” Ryan demanded- snapping the tension in the air. 

Shane went up in smoke, “I missed you,” He whispered,

It was a small phrase- tender and transient- and not unspoken before- but the room fell quiet after it. Ryan’s lips wavered hesitantly. Shane's gaze flickered.

“Do you wanna go out somewhere?”

“Out?” Shane echoed.

“Yes… somewhere… together.”

Shane looked at him in surprise. Ryan’s mouth was still open with that still word- together- and the room tremored.

“I-” Shane caught himself, “I would like that,”

“Me too,”

The outline of yet unrealized consequences suddenly framed them. Ideas of what things could mean- could become- charged the air. Nothing was at all definite- other than the mutual understanding that this was a beginning. 

“Do you wanna take my car- and I don’t know- just drive till we see something?” Ryan said

“For sure,” Shane grinned, “I think I’d like that,”

Nervous- but filled with a tingly exhilaration- the two left the apartment. Exchanging glances and flighty laughter, they jumped into the car. They had never been skittish around each other- even when they first met. They were both rather loud and chaotic people that had never really had a problem expressing their personality- but there was something in the air that was choking them all up. 

Despite this general jitteriness spirits were high, intoxicatingly so. The exhaustion and the anxiety of the last months dissipated into newfound anticipation. Dread turned to excitement and concern to connection. Everything else seemed to melt away. 

After about a half-hour of driving, they stopped in at an all-night taco place and got dinner. Between the meal and the drinks- the two relaxed into a loose conversation about the weather- and other filler topics. It was a shallow cover for the current flowing between them. Their minds were somewhere else- five steps ahead. Everyone had always said that they acted like a married couple, but the line between speculation and reality was growing dangerously thin.  
Shane felt it- a longing. He could tell Ryan felt it too. There were no overt moves being made- but the small gestures were enough to know.... A small touch of the hand, a subtle laugh, it was really painful how clear it was. 

Shane found himself looking at how each wave of Ryan’s black hair rested against his head. He found wild ideas forming in his mind. His hand in those locks- running through them...

It was a little past midnight when they finally finished up eating and the atmosphere was boiling over- the imminent closure of the evening loomed over them. As they got into the car, Shane felt as though he was going to break. The years they had spent running circles around each other- teasing each other- arguing with each other- fucking sleeping next to one another- it was all pressing down on him. All the moments he could have said something- acted- and didn’t were agonizing. He hadn’t even been aware then- that it could feel like this- that he felt like this- and yet now upon looking back on it- this feeling was interwoven into everything that they had ever done together. It was in the fabric of their beings. 

As they settled into the car, not even daring to let himself think about it for a moment, Shane took Ryan by the shirt collar. Ryan’s small sound of surprise was cut off by Shane’s mouth welding to his own- hungry. There was a feverishness to it- a pent up mix of lust and fear and greed. It was desperate. 

Ryan awakened under his touch- wrestling over the armrest- yanking Shane closer. As if they would wake up in a cold sweat the kisses quickened, becoming flooded with a breathless joy. Shane’s hand grasped the back of his neck and threaded through his hair, an ache springing inside his lips and lungs, as if given the choice he would never let go. 

Gasping and murmuring- Ryan responded in kind- reaching up and cupping Shane’s face- his fingers running against the stubble of his cheeks. Drawing deeper and deeper into each other, shades of domination crept into Ryan’s touch. In a delirious but thrilling downturn, the raggedness of Ryan’s kisses increased. A sultry darkness ignited- underlying everything with aggression. In the tangle of hands and intermingling breaths- Ryan’s hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shane’s long hair- pulling his head back roughly. 

“Shit!” Shane exhaled, grasping at the door, the palm of his hand hitting the window. 

Ryan continued down Shane- leaving hurried teethy kisses down his tilted neck. Shane’s heart rate began to spike with more than arousal. Coming up for air, his face only a few inches from Shane’s Ryan smiled- his eyes glassy, unrestrained, and glimmering with an impulsive headiness. His head still held back, Shane looked down the bridge of his nose at him. Heavy, the sound of their breathing filled the now steamy car and an understated but chilling sense of amusement danced on Ryan’s expression.

“I have got an idea,” Ryan whispered, his voice strange, “Why don’t we go somewhere and have some fun?”

“Fun?” Shane gasped, his pulse in his ears. 

“Yeah- like someplace we can fucking cut loose,” Ryan’s expression glimmered, “Like a club?”

A club... The air suddenly soured and a hot lump immediately formed in Shane’s throat. 

“What kind of club?” 

“There is one-” Ryan’s voice lilted oddly, “It is kinda sketch- but it's great for a good time.”

“What’s it called?” Shane asked, biting his lip, not wanting to hear the answer.

“Pyramid Heights.”

Shane froze. “Pyramid Heights?”

“Yeah,” Ryan let his grip on Shane loose and he turned to the ignition, apparently having already decided their destination. “It will be a real fun time.” 

The fiery feeling that had been built in Shane's stomach intermixed with apprehension, as Ryan tore out of the parking lot. Shane’s lips pursed- as for the first time that evening the feeling that this might be a grave mistake entered into his mind. Visions of Ryan touching- dancing- with that man… that man… Had Ryan known that he had followed him? Had Ryan-

Ryan put his hand possessively on Shane’s thigh, causing a shiver to go up his spine. Shane’s eyes nervously rotated towards him. Ryan’s vision was fixed ahead, concentrating on the road- existing in the moment. He looked fucking beautiful- forceful- spellbinding. It was almost unbelievable- the subtle but drastic change.

Was this the real Ryan? Had this what he had been hiding- this- this- he couldn't even put words to it. But it was equal parts unsettling and exciting. The power dynamic had shifted, and he could sense it. Ryan was in control. Ryan knew what was in store for them. 

As they flew down the roadways, Shane had flashbacks that filled him with eerie sensations. The Deja vu of being on the other side of the chase was overwhelming… like he had fallen between dimensions into a weird tangent of reality. He felt like he was watching himself from above as he treaded into unknown waters.

As they came upon the club and got out of the car, Ryan strode out with confidence, walking ahead and leading Shane into the club. The dark pulsing noise and chaos of the club washed over them as they snaked out onto the floor- wading through the pools of people and clouds of smoke. Streams of light shot down at them in rhythmic patterns. Ryan grabbed him by the hands and began dancing with him- running his hands over him- brushing his body against him. In the packed twilight zone of the club, Shane felt himself transforming, into what he didn’t know. 

In every movement, Ryan’s body radiated a dangerous vibe that was utterly intoxicating. Ryan wasn’t hiding anymore- his whole persona coming to life with a certain sense of abandonment and hedonistic zeal. Some parts of Shane’s knew that there was something to be feared- like he was playing with fire- but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. It was startling how quickly even sharing air was addicting. 

Ryan, with a small motion of his head, stalked off of the dance floor and gestured towards the lounge area. Shane followed him, breaking from the people and going into the dusk of seating and curtains. Slipping into one of the more isolated areas, Ryan sat down in one of the booths, a shadow overtaking his face as he sank behind the covering of the curtain. 

Shane gazed at Ryan in the darkness. If there was anyone who could show him how to live, it was him, with his sparkling eyes. As a stray beam of light pierced into the booth, illuminating Ryan’s face in strips, Shane felt the reality of what they had been doing and what it meant. This wasn’t some dream- it never had been- and there was an odd relief in accepting it. He was happy- insanely so. 

Shane slid into the booth next to him and Ryan called for a server and drinks were ordered. As they waited for their drinks, the nervous tension that had marked the first half of the evening fluttered up again, but it was distinctly one side this time. Ryan was cool and unhurried- experienced. He grabbed the drinks from the server when they came smoothly and placed them on the table. And after one or two pensive sips the glow in Ryan’s expression caught aflame. 

With no hesitation he moved to pick up right where they had left off in the car- but before he had a chance to do so Shane caught his hand- with a gentle urgency. Ryan looked surprised- even more surprised then when he had kissed him earlier. Tenderly, wrapping Ryan’s hand in his, unsure of all things but this, Shane stammered. 

“Y’know little guy,” He smiled, looking down at Ryan’s hand in his, “I had thought I lost you.”

Ryan’s expression shifted- his confidence beginning to escape him. 

“When you didn’t reply…” Shane continued, still looking down, “When we left off that way... I didn’t- or well I thought that might be the end. People say that you see those things coming- and that you can’t stop them- that people change and fall apart and I didn’t think it could ever happen to us- I didn’t it want to happen to us- but I was so sure that it was happening and that I was powerless and… then this.” Shane’s eyes finally flicked up and Ryan blushed a deep crimson. “Well to be honest I didn’t even know about this.” 

All eyes, like an animal suddenly discovered in the woods, Ryan sat still.

“I- uh-” Shane progressed, letting go of Ryan’s hand, feeling his composure deteriorate, “I wasn’t even aware of this- that you- that I- and I don’t even know what the hell I’m saying... I guess… I had always pinned you to be the dramatic one- and Jesus Christ I’m bearing my soul in this fucking place....” His head was swimming and his thoughts were becoming harder and harder to compose. 

Ryan looked on tentatively, “You don’t have to say anything- it’s fine I understand- I should have said something- I never planned that it would happen like this-” He stopped himself abruptly- a sudden pang in his face. “You don’t have to explain-”

“No, please just let me get this out.” Shane said with a flustered urgency, reaching for his drink as if that would help him compose his thoughts. Ryan’s hand shot out intersecting him. 

“It’s okay,” Ryan reassured- as if he was also speaking to himself

Shane- suddenly too disoriented to reach forward- fell back against the booth glassy-eyed. “I- I just always thought if anyone was to make the first move it was going to be you...” 

Ryan’s lips pursed, alarmed and bewildered. 

“I realize that now…” Shane sighed, his eyelid heavy. “I was... waiting for you.” Heavily, he let his hand fall onto Ryan’s shoulder, before blinking for just a brief moment. 

After about a second elapsed, Shane opened his eyes. He was in his bed. It was the next morning. Struggling to put together what he was seeing, he sat up. Next to him on the end table was a note. 

“Heya, Hope you slept well. We both had a little too much last night. Had to call us an uber home. Don’t worry- you're the nicest blackout drunk I know. - and P.S. I lost my phone- I’ll call you as soon as I get a new one ~ Ryan.” 

Shane fell flat against the bed after reading it. He had never been blackout drunk in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew!!! That got spicey :)))
> 
> also sorry for any mistakes- ur girl dyslexic and trying her best


	6. Hunter's Remorse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) thank-you thank-you thank-you for all the support!!!!
> 
> Ryan is going through it!!! Last night- ooooof!!! didn't go as he expected

“3:00 AM yesterday night”

Doom. Some people can live their whole life without feeling it- without it happening to them- without it sucking them up from the inside out. It tastes black and as thick as mud- or as clotted blood in your mouth. It swells in your ears and twists down into your brain like a virus. In a second it could rear its head without warning. Like groundwater that has begun to freeze and split the bedrock, its reach is not to be exhumed or mollified- it just is.

Doom was exactly what Ryan had felt from the moment that Shane had opened his mouth and started talking in that God-forsaken club. Every single word that tumbled out of that drugged, drunk, and beautiful mouth staked him to where he stood- the hunter caught in his own trap. He could feel it snapping around him- a mistake with teeth. It was god damn gutting.

For the first time in months, Ryan felt human and he fucking hated it. After all that chasing and struggling and bargaining- he was collapsing right when he was on the verge of accepting who he was- of facing it head on. After all of the insanity, he was still weak. A makeshift man- a powerless murder- a failure at both. Every shred of confidence that he had vanished. His madness had forsaken him- left him out on the half shell exposed, fractured, and gravely aware of what he had intended to do- and of how he looked while doing it.

Dragging Shane out of the back of the club, Ryan’s knees buckled, not from the weight but from the vulnerability- the fear. It was around him, in him, filling the very air he breathed. The world was thick with it- like the racing hearted nightmares that prey upon exhaustion and panic. Shaking and wild, he awkwardly shuffled Shane down the alley towards the car. Shane’s shoes drug against the pavement, making a goddamn awful scraping. It was so loud. Fuck it was loud. Even over the nighttime roar of the traffic and the clubs, it deafened him.

There was no one out in the back alley. Only the literal and metaphorical trash of the city who couldn’t give two shits. There would be no call to the police, no report, and certainly no witnesses. And yet still he was terrified… the limp feeling of Shane’s limbs hitting against his own making him sick- like he was under God’s magnifying glass and that in any second he could burn to a crisp.

Panting, wishing for once that he could have just stayed in that black haze of rage and gory fury, he piled Shane into the car and got in. The drive back to Shane’s place was searing. Ryan kept his eyes on the road, knowing that if he looked over at Shane… he choked- his chest shuttered like a leaf. The guilt was like a fever.

Wrapping his arms around Shane’s waist he made a botched job of taking him out of the car and up the stairs, bumping- scraping- swearing. His arms were burning by the end of it- exhausted and strained. Rummaging through Shane’s pockets, he found his keys and jammed them into the door, knocking it backwards. Roughly he mustered the last of his aderlyn induced strength and drug him down the hall and into the bedroom.

Unceremoniously, he flung him up onto the bed, the weight of Shane’s body taking his own with it. In a twisted pile Ryan collapsed on top of him- hand on hand- skin on skin- cushioned together by the folds of the comforter. With every quiver of his breath Shane’s warm calming scent invaded him like a drug- reminding him of all the sunlit smiles that Shane had beamed down at him. He let his head rest against his chest- the feeling of Shane’s button up soft and his heart beat slow and steady.

Ryan’s dark eyes swelled. His teeth bit into his lip. He had been so close... a couple of moments more...

“It could have been all over,” He croaked, stroking Shane’s face, “I knew you didn’t have feelings for me… all the time I knew that it could never happen… and shit- it hurt- it hurt- but I was willing to accept to swallow it… even make you pay for it… all the lies and pretend concern... it was going to be beautiful...”

Ryan rubbed his fingertips together and he could still feel it- the last bits of the powdered anxiety meds that he had used on Shane- just like he had used on all of them- burning into him like coals.

“Even when-” His voice hitched, the feeling of Shane’s mouth against his- the heat- the pressure- the excitement- resurfacing, “Even when you kissed me… it didn’t change a thing- if anything it made it better… it was going to be sweet don’t you see… you finally break down and I was going to take it- take everything- cause you- do you even know- how much- you idiot- you absolute asshole-”

Ryan’s tears began to flow hot and steady. He doubled over on Shane’s chest. The twisted resentment and denial gave way and he couldn’t contain it- the pain. He curled into him as the waves of madness tore through him- dragging him back and forth against what he had done- and what he had desired to do- he could retrace it all- the total descent and then the desire to kill and then the desire...

"I love you, you know,” He said, the room stilled as he sat there motionless from the admission. He had never said it before. He had never even dared to think it. But it was true. And it felt good to say it- even if Shane wasn’t aware enough to hear it.

“I had always hoped that when something happened- if it happened- we would end up here.” His hand traced the lines of Shane’s arm. His tears drying on his face. “I’d never imagined it’d be like this…”

Bitterness filled him again as he thought about what “this” was. Shane drugged below him. Him a murder of who knows how many. The whole thing more than likely headed to ruin. But there was that small silver lining in which things turned out alright.

Slowly, he finally managed to detach himself from Shane, and he wrote a note attempting to explain all of this madness. It was shaky and disingenuous but it was something- hopefully enough. It had to be enough. Taking one last look back before leaving him for the night, it occurred to Ryan how much Shane looked like one of his pinned butterflies…

Shane was his finally- and he didn’t even have to kill him.

Humming and in a strange elation, he jogged down to his car and began cruising around the streets with the notion to do something. He couldn’t just go home after all that happened- this was a night of occasion. He needed to commemorate this night.

And then he did. In an alleyway to some unfortunate wanderer- a nameless lamb to the slaughter. It was messy. There was a pipe involved. It had reverberated in his hand as it had come down- again and again. Despite being worn out from the whole affair- it was easy- refreshing- like taking a shower on a hot day.

He went home- threw his bloody clothes into a bleach wash- and took a shower smiling- the whole time delighted to know that what Shane and he had was special- in the light of utter irrelevance of everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D i wrestled back and forth about how cold Ry ought to be- but I finally bit the bullet and decided he had 1 warm spot (only one) and he lives by that- 
> 
> Thanks as always for reading <3


	7. Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!! I'm back and ngl this chapter might have made me cry as I was writing it. 
> 
> As always bless <333 for reading and being so nice and lovely (honestly could cry about that too)

Blinking, his head still spinning with an unknown fog, Shane slowly moved up from the bed. His limbs felt strange and unconnected- so did his head. He shuffled towards the shower. His hands shook as he unbuttoned his shirt. They felt strange too- cold and unreal. As he stretched off his clothes he realized how much his shoulders hurt- like they had been drug out of their sockets. On his side there was a red abrasion, running from just above his hip to his lower rib- like a rug burn but worse- gravely.

Thoughts were trying to pierce through the din that was currently buzzing in his mind. But he did not want to hear them just yet. He just needed to get clean. He just needed to reset before he considered...

He tried to wrangle off his pants when he realized he was still wearing his shoes. The thoughts screamed louder. He collapsed down on the side of the tub and wrenched them off his cramped feet. Holding them up to the light he saw how fucked up they were- how scratched. Absently, he titled the tip of his shoe down against the floor mimicking the position it would have been at to cause the gashes. The point of the toe had to have been at an unnatural angle- toes back yet getting pushed forward. From the amount of damage it couldn’t have just been a stumble. It had been done for some time, across a decent distance. It was on both shoes too, in the same direction. Vaguely, he pulled the shoe along the tile.

Trunks- ducktape- bleach- plastic bags- dumpsters… Drugged and then dragged.

He broke into a sudden and violent sweat. He didn’t want these thoughts. These weren’t his. He refused to believe it. Nothing happened. They had gone out and gotten drunk- so what if his shoes were messed up- and his lips were still numb- Ryan didn’t do anything- he couldn’t of- Shane just wouldn’t allow it. Everything had been perfect- even better than he could have hoped. And Ryan was the only thing that he wanted out of this fucked up existence- the only thing that mattered now-

With knuckles full of fear, he hurtled the shoe against the wall- unable to touch it any longer.

But it was already too late. A hot static ran from the top of his head to his toes as he knew- how he knew- that it was true. There were plenty of sane explanations- but that fire- that shift in Ryan- it was darkness- true darkness. The feeling of their lips meeting- it had been too electric to be from a good place. And yet he had gone in full-hearted anyway.

He clenched his jaw- still fighting back the pandora’s box of emotions he had in his chest.

Betrayal? No- Disappointment. Bitter disappointment. It wasn’t even with Ryan either- it was with himself. How could he have walked into that? How could he have allowed himself to get in that position? Sure- he had no real reasons to not trust what was happening- but at the same time he had every reason. He had known- since- since...

His breathing halted for a moment. His eyes cleared. The keys. The woman’s keys at the Asylum. Had it been that long? Had he known then and just refused to see it? Was that the reason why he had hung around and trailed after him- because he knew that Ryan was up to no good? No good being the understatement of the century.... Had he left the club too because he was afraid in more ways than one about what would happen next- what DID happen next… He hadn’t even called in for that guy even though he could have. Was it denial or had he been complicit- willingly blind. He could have even called a therapist for Ryan and instead he had tried to sort the issue out on his own.

Even now- even in coming to terms with it- he still could feel himself clawing- clinging to the idea- that maybe he could fix it. Given the time- the patience- the will.

He slumped further back against the tub. His head, exhausted, fell against the lip and he looked at the ceiling. The tile was cold and hard on his legs. And the ceiling was flat and regular. Nothing had changed in the world. Everything was as it had always been. Who was he to disturb that peace? Who was he…

No.

He stopped himself before the warm feeling of “doing nothing” overtook him. Ryan had intended to kill him last night. And even though he hadn’t- there was always the risk of tomorrow. Rehearsal, he had heard of that. Every killer worth their euthanization shot did it: BTK- Bundy- Dahmer- Kemper- the lot of them. First with animals- then with weaker victims- and then the main course. It was a fucked up thought process, but he couldn’t assume that he had been left alive for any other reason than cold feet. Ryan couldn’t have feelings for him if that was what he had intended to do right- right?

It hurt. It really fucking hurt. But why had Ryan waited till last night to finally open up. The disappointment morphed into pain. Had the whole thing been a game? Had Ryan knowingly manipulated him into letting his guard down? Did they really have nothing?

He wanted to cry but he couldn’t. It wouldn’t come. It was too deep. It wouldn’t let go. There was nothing he could do but sit and feel it in his throat and in his chest eating him- like a wildfire. It was a persistent and a stubborn angry thing with shades of crimson and flashes of light- it rolled through him like thunder on a quiet night.

It was on the tip of his tongue- what it truly was. But he could not speak it- the reason for why he could not cry.

From the other room a noise echoed into the bathroom. It took several more buzzes for the sound to finally pierce through to his consciousness. It was his phone. Had it been buzzing this whole time- probably. Nothing seemed very important at this moment.

With stilted awkward motions he finally peeled himself off of the floor and went back into the bedroom. He rustled through the sheets- finally fishing it out. The phone was out of focus and faded in his vision. There were messages but he couldn’t make sense of them right now.

Ding-Dong.

Shane felt his skin shudder off of him. His composure scattered to the wind. He shoved his phone into his pocket and grabbed the nearest thing that looked like clothing and ran out into the hall. Tripping and fumbling, he shoved his head through the shirt- his hair poofing even bigger than before. He braced himself against the door and sure enough- it was Ryan- who was looking as well rested and as normal as ever. He was holding bags of what looked like food. He was smiling.

The whole in Shane widened a little bit more.

His hand hesitated on the door. He had to face him. He had to suck it up. If he didn’t… His knuckles grew white as they turned the handle.

“Good Morning!” Ryan’s face was brilliant- blinding- Shane could barely look back at it.

“Oh-” Shane assumed a surprised and sleepy persona.“Morning to you too Ry...:” The bitterness slipped in between his words. He needed to get this under control.

“I brought some breakfast burritos!” Ryan happily held up the bag. “I thought you might be in need of a good meal after last night.”

Shane’s mouth went dry. “Thanks-man, I really appreciate it- you checking up on me.” He smiled, a terrible crooked smile.

Ryan didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he continued to stand there on the doorstep earnestly looking into Shane’s eyes like a lovestruck teenager. Who was he trying to fool?

“Well, come on in-” Shane shifted out of the door frame, which he hadn’t even realized he was blocking till now, “Sorry if things are a mess.”

“Don’t worry- that’s why I’m here!” Ryan beamed as he slid by him.

The edge of Ryan’s shoulder brushed against his chest. His heartbeat pulsed into his eardrums.

The scent of a fresh shower following him, Ryan breezed into the apartment and set the food on the kitchen counter. Without any prompting at all Ryan began pulling open cabinets and getting plates and drinks. He was more at home then he had ever been. It was terrifying- dissonant- to see him acting so domestic.

“I got a new phone-” Ryan mentioned, laying the place settings on the island, “I’ll give you the number after we eat.”

“Really?” Shane said, his eyes trailing him as he grabbed a knife and cut the burritos in half. “Whatever happened to your other one?”

“I don’t even know stolen- lost or something- I haven’t been able to find it.”

It was strange- even now Ryan was still terrible at lying- childlike… Was he just toying with him? Maybe that’s why he was so happy- he was just playing house- until...

In brief shock-like flashes, images of who Ryan had been last night replayed in Shane’s mind, as he continued to watch him shuffle around the kitchen. Every so often it would be like he was seeing double- the movement of Ryan’s arms- the quick flicks of his eyes- the bounce of his black hair- it was all there- like overlaying images that together made the illusion of something 3D- something real.

“I see ah-” Ryan waved the knife in Shane’s direction, “I must have caught you sleeping- if I had known I would have waited a bit longer so you'd get some more rest.”

Shane looked down- the shirt he had shoved on was inside out. “Oh jeeze- for crying out loud-” He hurriedly patted his hands all over and everything was bad. His hair was a bush. His horrid pants were from yesterday. He was a god damn- shaky sweaty mess inside out. Without even thinking he yanked the shirt over his head and tried to wrangle it in the right way.

Ryan’s sights abruptly focused on Shane’s still exposed side. The long-burning drag mark was angry and red in the clear light of the kitchen. There was a moment of ear-splitting silence.

“Jesus Christ,” Ryan let the words drop from his mouth, and they sounded painfully genuine.

“It’s nothing!” Shane rattled quickly covering it, “It’s just a little scrape- must have done it falling into the car or something.”

“Or something…” Ryan's face shifted- becoming unreadable- and his eyes hollowed.

“It’s nothing- it’s just skin,” Fuck why had he said it like that, “It’ll heal,”

Ryan was still staring at Shane’s side, as if he could look right through the shirt. “Does it hurt?”

“I- ah-” Shane could feel panic rising up in his chest, “I actually hadn’t even really noticed it until now.”

Which was true. In all the distractions he had felt nothing- but now the wound was all he could focus on. With each breath, it dragged against the thin cotton of the shirt- stinging him. The hints of the violence that could have been seeped into the air.

“Fuck-” Ryan whispered softly, “You have gotta be more careful big guy.”

His gaze ran a burning trail upwards till it met Shane’s, and it felt as though someone had just struck a match up the back of Shane’s spine. The feelings were still there- even as mired and as twisted as they were- and they were searing, as new as when they had first been drawn.

Paralyzed, Shane stood in suspended animation as Ryan rounded the island and wordlessly stalked towards him. He had the same shadows around his face as he had had in the club- but there was something more this time- the images were shifting- glitching on top of one another. It was incoherent, as unable to be grasped as fog in one’s palm, bleeding through the cracks of Shane’s fingers.

Ryan's brow drew over his foggy eyes. 

….Sorrow… it was acute sorrow...

Tentatively, Ryan’s cold hands met Shane’s waist and caressed the edge of his shirt. Shane’s breath shook visibly, as Ryan turned his head to the side and gently lifted Shane’s shirt past his waist and over his shoulders.

“Why don’t you sit down,” Ryan said, “I’ll fix this.”

Shane nodded, relaxing back on to the bar stool.

Ryan calmly rustled around the kitchen getting a cold cloth and ice, as Shane looked down at him, completely focused and helpless. His anxieties and disappointment and hurt began to flood him- pooling in his limbs- rushing around his ribs. Dark things that had coiled themselves around his boughs slithered out. Desires. Fears

Ryan carefully nestled up to his side and pushed the cold compress to his wound- and he bit his lip. The hazy static of a summer storm gathered around him. He pressed his eyes together, as his body faded into a memory lingering somewhere beneath him. All the loose strings of his life and of his beliefs swayed in the listless current. The softness of Ryan’s breath soothing against his bare skin- the bite of the ice- the rage- the tenderness- it poured around him like a rainstorm.

The tears began to run from his eyes

“I’m so sorry-” Ryan murmured weakly, “That it hurts,”

“It’s okay,” Shane soothed, “It’s okay…”

This was everything. This was meant to be.

Shane knew why he had followed Ryan into that club, why he laid himself at his mercy, because he had wanted to. Beneath it all nothing else mattered. It was as plain as that. He would do it all over again. He knew it. Even if he hadn’t woken up this morning, so be it… so be it… it was worth it… Ryan was worth it.

A weight lifted with each tear that poured out, as he accepted it. It was love, and he could not uproot it. 

Ryan carefully dried off the gash and found some sports gauze to put around it. Shane's tears dried and they ate breakfast together casually as a couple.


	8. "We"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya!!! I have spent a long time thinking about this story and I have done a lot of outlining- so sorry if this update took a while lmao!! I'm so thankful for yall reading and being so encouraging and like beyond lovely!!
> 
> PS: recommend listening- I have been mildly obsessed with this song- 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUrGPrD6TQg

After the breakfast was eaten, Ryan gathered up the dishes and began to wash them in the sink. He was still being courteous, almost to a fault.

“Good thing it is Sunday,” He said, “We have the whole day.”

We. That word was a complex thing now- a delicate word.

“What would you like to do- before we have to go back?” Shane said, his gaze wavering.

“Back...” Ryan sounded it out. He dove his hands into the soapy water, the bubbles foaming around his hands. “I don’t want to push you too hard- you-” His voice cracked.

The dishes clattered against each other in the sink. Shane could see a line of stress run down the back of his shoulders.

Ryan turned his head slightly, a shy expression forming on his profile. “Why- why don’t we stay in?”

There was an undercurrent of anguish- admittance- it was subtle- as if to say the outside was where the danger was- where bad things could happen. It was safe here- what happened last night couldn’t happen here. It was just a calm room with only two of them together. No wild lights or fast cars or drinks...

Shane felt the wrap rub against his side. “We could watch a movie?”

Ryan hummed, resuming washing the dishes, “You know I haven’t watched a movie in months- I actually haven’t really done anything just quiet like that in what feels like forever...”

His voice shook for a moment- the cheery tone bleeding into exhaustion.

What kind of hell had he been through in these months? Shane hadn’t had the presence to consider that until now- what had really happened to Ryan to make him…

As he followed his hands as he shifted the dishes from the sink to the machine he felt a pull in his arms- a start to motion- as if to catch something that was midfall before it broke. Despite what Ryan had done- despite who he was- it didn't matter. 

He knew that he hadn’t always been this way. Ry had been normal once- happy once- not this broken unsure and unsound person. Last night and even this morning- when Ryan had first arrived- he had been chilling- all smiles- all confidence. But that had evaporated. Colors of tiredness now floated around him. It was apparent how helpless he was and how hard he was trying to mask it. Ryan was here trying to make things better, but it was evident he was starting to struggle- like he had used his last ounces of strength to hold himself together while he had bound Shane’s wound.

It had to have been inhumane- whatever had happened to him- whatever had flipped the switch.

“Why don’t we watch something- like I don’t know...” Shane wracked his mind for something. “Errr- ”

“-Romantic?” Ryan offered.

There was an uncertain silence. Ryan busied himself with the dishtowel, as if he shouldn’t have been so bold, like it had been too soon.

“Romantic?” Shane echoed, the idea hitting him squarely in the chest, “That sounds perfect,”

Ryan was still looking away, but Shane could tell from his body language that he was nervous. How he wanted to tell him that it was okay- that he knew- that it was fine- that he had chosen him the moment he had kissed him in the car- but he too was nervous. The presence of death can do that. Life is a fragile thing- especially when intermixed with volatile and intimate feelings. It was still now, there was an immediacy, and he could not break it.

The dishwasher was started. There was no more need to hang around in the kitchen. But they did, for a minute or two, a bit apprehensive of being confronted with this new dynamic- this “we.”

Eventually, they did, however, wander over to the couch. They sat down- a foot apart- as if they had not been at each other last night. Ryan, Shane suspected, was sitting there because he was too afraid to get any closer- perhaps he felt he didn’t deserve it. Shane, however, was sitting far away because he knew that if they got any closer right now- with things as they were- there was a very real possibility that a movie might not even be selected at all. It was agony- seeing him like this. Shane was aching to comfort him- to smother out whatever had gone wrong.

His hands fumbled with the remote. “Feeling anything?”

The Netflix recommends flicked by.

“Is there anything- ah- classic?”

“Classic?” Shane repeated, “How is it in all these years you never told me you liked classic movies?”

“Well…” Ryan brought his feet up and curled them against himself, “I like classic romance movies… we just never- sort of- talked about them.”

That was true. They had never discussed anything even vaguely related to romance. They barely even talked to each other about the passing dates and relationships they had. Shane supposed now that was telling. They had been too scared to.

“How about Sabrina?” Ryan said curling, even more, into himself. “I mean if you want to?”

Shane wanted nothing more than to put his arms around him and shelter him from everything he must be feeling right now.

“I’ve actually never seen Sabrina,” Shane admitted, focusing on the screen, trying to read the description- in fact trying to do anything but look into Ryan’s pale face.

“You haven’t?” Ryan’s eyebrows raised, some spirit returning to his voice.

“No, truly,” Shane said, still focusing ahead.

“I think that you’d like it,” Ryan said, adjusting a little closer, “The cinematography is great- and the story- well the story is just really great too- I don’t want to spoil anything- but it’s one of the better rom coms that Audrey did… or at least I think so.”

Shane felt a tug in the middle of his chest and he finally turned his head to look at Ryan looking at him. Their eyes met in the middle. Shane’s breathing quickened. In Ryan’s eyes he could see everything- the shards of who he was- and the burning flickers of who he was becoming. He was sick, and eventually… The world suddenly felt like the enemy.

“Sabrina it is,” He mouthed, absently pressing play.

Ryan seemed pleased, maybe even relieved that the movie had started. He sank into his seat, and the foot distance became only a few inches. Shane couldn’t stand it anymore. He put his arm over the back of the sofa, and wrapped his hand over Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan startled a little- but only a little- soon he cuddled up to him.

He was so warm- so small against his chest. Even though they had never laid together like this it felt natural. 

The first minutes of the movie passed- there were pictures and people up on the screen saying things- probably charming things- but the only thing Shane could focus on was how it felt to be like this with him. 

In only a half-hour of holding him, Ryan’s breathing was slowing into a steady sleepy rhythm- as if he finally was feeling peace. Shane could feel him quiet in his arms- settling down to earth. By the half-way mark of the movie, Ryan was fast asleep against him. It was strange- how all of this had materialized over the course of a day.

Both too soon and not soon enough.

He ran his hand gently over Ryan’s hair, the strands fluffing under his touch. Every detail of his resting face- every soft curve and jagged angle- filtered into his mind as he clung to how it felt to exist in this moment. He was going to remember- he was imprinting this in his mind. What it felt like to be complete- to find his purpose.

A lulling aching sadness filled him as he faintly realized why he was clinging to this- clinging to him. He leaned down even closer, till Ryan’s head was just below his own, so close he could kiss his forehead. All his life Shane had joked that nothing mattered- but now he knew that he was wrong- nothing else mattered.

He would be here with him. He would do everything he could through the death, the horror, and the end… the end...

The soundtrack swelled- there was a party and Audrey looked sad- she was falling in love but she wasn’t happy about it. Things appeared complicated. People weren’t getting what they wanted. But it would turn out wouldn’t it? If it didn’t then it wouldn’t be right- it wouldn’t be fair…

Ryan stirred in his arms, putting his hand upon his chest. Shane bent his head down and rubbed his cheek against the top of his head. He should have been there to protect him- if he had been there like this before anything had happened- maybe he could have prevented it. His arms wrapped tighter around him, bringing Ryan into his lap. How could Ryan think that he was here to fix things. He was the one that needed fixing- needed rest.

The movie buzzed. An end card played. Shane had been right. Everything had ended happily- as it was supposed to.

Carefully, he pulled Ryan’s arms till they were about his neck. He then slid his arms under his knees and behind his back. Cradling him with some effort, his teeth gritting, he lifted him off the couch. His steps unsteady but determined he carried him wedding style into the bedroom. He placed him down onto the comforter and folded it up around him.

As he looked down at him he felt the strange Deja vu again- the feeling he had felt in the car when Ryan was driving him to the killing field- like he was on a cosmic path. Was this how Ryan had looked at him? Had he felt these same feelings- this same need to protect- the regret- the blind acceptance…

He felt the current pulling him deeper down. His side ached. The bandages had been disturbed- peeling away on the edges. He should probably shower. He didn’t want to leave Ryan alone though- even if he was sleeping- but he knew he would have to get used to the idea. They weren’t just going to live together now. No matter how good that idea sounded. It was wishful thinking.

He went over to the bathroom and started to undress, peeling off his shirt and his pants. There was a loud clatter. He had forgotten his phone was in his pocket. He picked it up. The messages that he hadn’t bothered to read before came into view.

“Security Alert > urgent > activity at door,”

His face went white. He had forgotten that several months ago the complex had the security upgraded. Every unit had a- thankfully- closed system camera. It was supposed to stop petty theft. He almost didn’t want to click it- but he knew he had to. He had to face it. He needed to face it.

He opened the recording. Ryan was struggling with him up the steps. Even through the grainy footage, he could see that Ryan was sweating- fumbling- distraught. On the second to last step, Ryan’s grip came loose and Shane skidded down.

So that’s where it came from… Shane put his hand reflexively against his side.

He could see Ryan was muttering things under his breath- and as he got closer- finally on the doorstep- he could see a flash of swelling tears in Ryan's eyes fighting to come out. Scared- very scared- and convicted- and it was apparent he was trying with all his will to scrape together the mess that had happened. The recording ended as the two fell back against the door and into the hallway.

Most sane people upon seeing their limp body being dragged up a flight of stairs would be livid- terrified- or even disgusted. But Shane didn’t even pause to think about that. It was old information. He had already figured it out. Taking him home was hardly the worst thing Ryan had done- that he knew now with even more certainty.

No, instead of thinking of those things, Shane thought of something else. How many other cameras had Ryan been on… how exactly did he kill… why did he kill… what did he leave behind… how much evidence was out there…

He pressed his hand to his mouth. This wouldn’t do.

He went and turned on the shower. No- this definitely wouldn't do.

He got in and began to scrub away the dirt and the grime of the last 36 hours. As he watched the foamy water wash down the drain- taking all the nastiness with it- his mind began to murmur and plan. He would have to do something about it. He took the washcloth and began to wring it in his hands. He would have to protect him.


End file.
